


Games

by entanglednow



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It will pass the time. We have enough of that to waste."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

  
"What will this accomplish?" Jacob asks. The question proves something Esau has been trying to convince him of for - what feels like forever.

"It will pass the time. We have enough of that to waste." An air of accusation and bitterness is his favourite flavour. Which is still a shade more complimentary than the flavour Jacob seems to find him.

He glares into the high sun.

"Unless you have better things to do. You always seem to have better things to do Jacob."

"No," Jacob says. Firmly, honestly, like he really doesn’t. Esau doesn’t entirely believe him. Because everything is some terribly complicated and important problem that has to be thought on, even this. Jacob likely thinks he's playing a game and, as always, he wants to play it with him.

Perhaps Jacob believes he has some complex and terrible plan. He can't help but wonder whether he'd be reassured or disappointed, if he knew it was simply a brief, bright curiosity to see Jacob underneath him.

Jacob has always liked to make things complicated.

Esau wonders if perhaps he should have just pushed instead of speaking. He blames it on the heat, on the laziness and the way Jacob is stretched out beside him, loose and soft, squinting into the sun like he finds it fascinating. Like he has no idea it will send him blind.

The silence is as good a yes as any, but the curious, expectant look Jacob throws him is almost encouragement.

Esau doesn’t wait for him to decide how they do this too, like he decides everything else. Instead he shifts in the sand. He lays his hands on Jacob, rough, because he can, because he can't quite help it. There's a brief, strange moment, oddly cautious, where they work out how to be close, how to take each other's weight and touch each other. Before Esau fists a hand in the almost-delicate material of Jacob's shirt, crushing it in bunches while the other hand catches his chin and pulls it down, tips it just right.

Jacob remains still through the kiss. Like he doesn’t know, or doesn't remember, how this goes. Like he's left it behind for higher and much less visceral pursuits. Esau thinks he would like to shake that certainty. He bites at the soft edge of Jacob's mouth, finds the taste of him and decides he likes it. He digs his fingers into the short sandy mess of his hair and holds him, works his tongue in, slow and dirty and the fact that Jacob doesn't resist, that he simply opens up and takes it. That, perhaps, is more of a win than anything else.

There is enough fury between them that it's easy, easy to stab at the embers and watch them turn into flames. Human flesh and blood reacting to every quick shove and too-tight clasp of hands. Until the shift and push of them is hot and ragged, until it leaves Esau's fingers harder and greedier than even he intends.

He expects Jacob to protest. To deny him. But he simply spread his legs around Esau's solid waist and lets him push down and in. Jacob almost looks human like this. Every breath flaring out short and unsteady, cheeks red, eyes blown out. The line of his mouth is rubbed red and Esau thinks he can do better, that they both can do better. He wants more, he wants _everything._

He's pushing at the waist of Jacob's pants, finding a line - a slash of bare skin and forcing his fingers up and in and under, flattening them on the warmth of Jacob's stomach, the bend of his waist and the hard jut of his hip.

It's easy to be greedy to push his wrist against material hard enough to tear it, smothering the protesting noise that Jacob makes in favour of pressing down between his thighs, pressing down tight while he pulls at the trailing edge of white fabric.

Jacob's fingers are dug in to his own pants, tugging them down over his hips in one fierce movement that leaves him grunting surprise and pressing back down. They're suddenly warm and hard and bare against each other. He groans through his teeth at the sharpness of it, at the urgency that suddenly owns him. Presses up and feels himself slide and shove into the line of heat that is Jacob's naked cock.

Jacob loses his breath and Esau is more than willing to keep him like that, to leave him wrecked on the sand while he presses into him, fingers dug tight into the bare edge of his hip while he drives soft, stunned noises out of his mouth and digs his teeth into the long curve of his throat.

There is nothing but this, the shove and gasp and Jacob's fingers tight against his neck, and the back of his shirt, urging wordlessly for speed and weight and _greed_. Until the world is sharply bright and Esau loses himself completely, the ache turning into bliss and warmth and the slow stutter of wetness where Jacob is falling to pieces too.

His mouth lays opens at Jacob's throat, feels the ragged slam of his pulse. He should leave the other here, a mess on the sand. He should move off and away. Though he seems in no great hurry to, and Jacob's tightly clasping fingers appear in no rush to let him.

  



End file.
